Normal Guy, Normal Girl, Normal Bar
by Catherine or Cate
Summary: Harry ranaway fluff piece, how his life could have been. I had to get it out of my head, sorry folks. oneshot HPOC


Harry still saved the world and all, but ran away after his victory, in an attempt to be normal

Harry still saved the world and all, but ran away after his victory, in an attempt to be normal. What ever that is…

III

Normal Guy, Normal Girl, Normal Bar

III

Time has been kind to him in some ways. He'd finally grown at least. His lanky frame reached a respectable six feet and a single inch, every inch was muscled, or toned, or slightly, very slightly tanned. His raven coloured hair remained unruly, but now hung in his eyes in what women deemed to be a 'sexy' manner. His lightning bolt scar had faded to be an almost unnoticeable line on his forehead. Surgery had freed his eyes from glasses leaving them as green as ever.

Harry sighed as he pulled on his normal gear for a night out on the town with the boys. His black boots, his worn geans that hung just right, his black belt and tonight a long sleeved pale green shirt with pale blue pinstripes running through it. After applying deodorant, he buttoned the shirt from the bottom tucking it into his jeans. While rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves, he moved around his tiny studio grabbing his wallet, his watch, his phone and stuck a stick of chewing gum in his mouth. Buttoning the last couple of buttons, Harry flipped off the lights and locked his door, before heading out on the street below.

He walked past all the sights he knew: the apartment building he owned, a restaurant he owned a share of, the supermarket he frequented, a corner café he owned along with the apartment above, Jack's home – the lights were off so he must have already left, the river, the cocktail bar he financed and subsequently owned a share of, and finally his destination, Big Springs, the favoured watering hole of his rugby buddies.

Pushing open the doors in the pub doors Harry was greeted by a welcoming chant.

'Here comes the man with the golden boot!

The one who is blessed by Lady Luck!

Here comes our star, our hero, our god!

Man or the hour!

Man of the week!

Tis Harry! Tis Harry!

Of the First Welsh Blue!

Tis Harry! Tis Harry!'

Harry grinned and allowed himself to be pushed up onto the nearest table. 'And we be the team through and through!' he called.

The Welsh Blue first, second and third grade rugby teams, coaches and partners all cheered as did a number of the establishments other patrons. The local league Premiers trophy was then brought to Harry, who stood on the table still, filled with beer. Harry accepted the trophy and drank deeply from the liquid within to more cheers from his crowd. Pulling his team captain onto the table with him, Harry presented the trophy and allowed the other young man to drink, before the two coaches joined them and drank from the cup.

The four men handed the cup to the First grade team who had assembled on the floor in front of the table and the grown men began solemnly drinking from the trophy. The whole crowd then began to sing along to the song over the speakers – We are the Champions.

As the song ended, Harry climbed down from the table to be congratulated by all his team mates of his Man of the Match award, while he in turn thanked them for playing the way the did all season to allow him to win the award in the Grand Final game. He made his way to the bar, being slapped on the back by every footballer, every girlfriend, every wife, every brother and dad and a number of others before slipping around the side away from the party.

'You don't like crowds,' the young woman sitting on a stool stated.

Harry looked her up and down before slipping onto the stool next to her and accepting his whiskey. 'You're not from around here,' he returned.

'Gemma, Melbourne, Australia.'

'Harry, London, England.'

'Pleased to meet you,' the young woman replied with a nod.

'Also. Can I get you another drink?'

'No, I'm good for now,' Gemma grinned ruefully. 'I happen to be a bit of a lightweight.'

'Well, I am too compared to most of these guys,' Harry said, waving his drink in the direction of the rugby boys on the other side of the bar before bringing the glass to his lips. 'Though it's not hard to be when compared to them.'

'I believe that,' Gemma smiled. 'So, Harry, what is it you do?'

'I am an investor. I was orphaned as a baby but my grandparents and parents all provided for me. So, I go around investing the money I inherited, until I fall into a career, that is.'

'You don't work?'

'No,' Harry replied, watching the young woman carefully for her response.

'What do you do with your time then?' Gemma asked, still playing with her empty glass.

'I work with orphans, those who grow up in an orphanage not far from my studio. I want to make sure that they are better off than I was. Life can be harsh. I am trying to make it easier on a handful of children I can relate to,' Harry said.

Gemma understood the tone of the young man's reply and wisely left the subject alone.

'What are you doing so far from Melbourne, Australia, Gemma?'

'Running.'

'From what? To where?'

The woman shrugged her shoulders and grinned. 'No bloody idea.'

'Everyday can be a struggle on this road. But it is nice to know we aren't alone from time to time,' Harry shrugged.

'Had a couple of curve balls in your life?'

'More than a couple.'

A loud crash cause the two young people to look up across the bar. They laughed along as the two scrums pulled apart and the furniture was righted. Harry relaxed a little and turned back to the woman he was speaking with who looked surprised.

'What?' Harry asked.

'I just learnt something about you,' Gemma replied.

The raven-haired man sipped his drink and raised a brow. 'What was that?'

Gemma pulled up the left leg of her jeans and showed it to Harry who blanched.

'That's dragon hide and a wand,' Harry hissed. 'You're a … you're like me!'

'When you tense, you can see the outline of yours in your pocket. Your hand went straight to it when the boys fell, Harry Potter,' Gemma said pointedly.

'What are you doing here?' Harry asked, pulling his wand from his pants pocket hand holding it out of the sight of the rest of the bar patrons.

Gemma smiled, her blue eyes twinkling as she flipped her long honey coloured hair over her shoulder. Opening her bag, she pulled out her wallet and showed it to the man beside her before pulling out a small orange crystal .

'Gemma Cooke, as in the techno mage,' Harry whispered as he read, slipping his wand away. 'What are you doing here in England?'

The witch took the crystal in her hand and held it up. 'You recognise this?' she asked.

'It's a truth stone, when it turns pink you aren't telling the truth. Doesn't work with any form of disguise unless the disguise alters your mental capabilities.'

'I am Gemma Cooke,' the blond said, holding the crystal loosely in the fingers below the level of the bar.

Harry reached over and held the stone for a moment. 'I am Harry Potter. You can trust me.' If anything, the rock glowed more brightly in its orange sunset tones.

The witch relaxed a little more knowing that she was talking with someone who was trustworthy. 'Everyone knows who I am back home,' Gemma replied sadly. 'I wanted to get away from it all for just a little while. Chat up some normal guy, like a normal girl, instead of being hit upon by men, with the intellects of boys, just after my money. At least you're not after my money. You have enough of your own.'

'True, but with my status in our world and my wealth, why do you think I ran off to the Muggle world?' Harry asked. 'I haven't used my wand in four years. At home, I do the odd wandless charm but that's it. At least you are famous for something you did. I am famous because fate is a bitch and I murdered a whole bunch of pureblood elitists. All I ever wanted was to be normal, and I can't even be that playing rugby.'

'Because you've got a golden boot?' Gemma joked.

'Blessed by Lady Luck herself,' Harry grinned.

'When was the last time you saw your friends?'

'I sometimes sit in the park where they meet for lunch and watch Hermione and Ron. I almost bumped into Neville and Ginny once in a Muggle restaurant. I see others from time to time.'

'Do you write to them?'

'Not often,' Harry shrugged.

'I haven't spoken with my best friend in three years. My father in eight years, and my mother in one. For the last eighteen months, I have been wandering the world just trying to find myself. Learn who I really am, outside the techno mage I became at sixteen,' Gemma offered. 'I want to be Gemma Cooke, not Gemma Cooke – Techno Mage.'

'That is the curse of celebrity.'

'That and being analysed every time you step out in public.'

Harry sipped his drink as Gemma had hers refreshed.

'So how is your discovery going?' the young man asked.

'It's getting closer. It's just around the corner,' Gemma smiled. 'I'll find it. Soon.'

'You sure will,' Harry grinned.

'Your friends are coming,' the blonde noted sipping her drink.

'How long are you in town?' Harry asked, standing. 'Look, if you want to be normal, with me, meet me at The Pixies, tomorrow night, at eight for dessert and drinks.'

'Is it a normal bar?' Gemma asked.

'As normal as any of the other bars I own,' Harry grinned. 'In this world, my world, there is no such thing as normal.'

Gemma's hand snatched her truth stone out of the air as Harry tossed it to her, still glowing orange. 'Make it eight thirty,' she called as Harry walked away. 'It's a more normal time for dessert.'

Harry just waved and spent the rest of the evening with a smile on his face.

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